Butterfly Kisses
by Crimson Coin
Summary: FIN And yet again, another Jericho-Trish after 11-17-03 RAW. What does it surprise you? Please R&R FIN


Title: Butterfly Kisses  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Summery: More aftermath of the Trish/Jericho kiss  
  
Timeline: November 17, 2003  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Jericho, Trish, or anything ever concerning them .... ever  
  
Rating: AWWW PG13  
  
Archiving: Go for it, just let me know.  
  
Author's Note: This story has nothing to do with my weekly series 'Unstoppable'. This story stands solely on it's own.  
  
+++  
  
Chris Jericho held his breath. Held his breath as he leaned closer. Closer and closer and closer to Trish Stratus. He was going to kiss her. Oh yes, this time he was going to kiss her. That's it, Chris. He licked his lips, closing the final distance and taking her lips with his.  
  
He was dying. He had to be dead. Anything that felt this good was a sin. He never dreamed she could taste so sweet, or be so soft, or race his heart as she kissed him back. It was nothing long or deep. Just the shortest sweetest kiss. When he started to pull away, she followed him, not letting him break away yet and so he leaned forward to reinforce his kiss ever so softly yet again.  
  
And just like that, the kiss ended, Chris pulling back and looking down in her eyes. Please, please don't let her see what was really behind his eyes. Gosh, she really was beautiful. So stunning and perfect and ...  
  
"AND CUT!"  
  
Trish smiled. "How'd it look?"  
  
Chris sighed, stepping back from her and turning his attention to the production crew. The head camera man smiled. "It looked great. You two really are playing well together. It's no wonder the fans are buying into you so much."  
  
Trish laughed. "That's great. Do you need another shot? Do we have to do it again?"  
  
The camera man shook his head. "Nope. I think we've got it."  
  
"Excellent." Trish squealed, waltzing over to the make-up crew and letting them fix her up for her heat match that was due in about half an hour.  
  
Chris just stood there, watching her. He breathed a sigh of relief, or was it disappointment. It appeared that anything she saw in his eyes after that kiss, she credited to acting, not to reality. Was that a good thing? Chris supposed it was. That meant that their friendship wasn't ruined. They were best friends after all. That's part of the reason the company decided to pair them together.  
  
He was resilient at first. Not wanting anything to do with this angle, though it wasn't because he didn't want to work with her. He did. Maybe more than he should. Chris had wanted her for so long. Even before they were friends, he wanted her. Wanted to be with her and to just ... want her. And at the time, she was dating someone. Some guy, nobody knew who he was. So Chris pined day in and day out until eventually he couldn't handle it. He started talking to her. And as months past, their friendship blossomed, she stopped seeing that guy and they had a friendship. It was beautiful really.  
  
A beautiful companion-like friendship. Like the one that Christian has with Lita. Just this eternal comforting feeling in the other's presence. And with Chris, that comfort changed to passion and desire and he wanted her more than ever. But at this point, their friendship was far too solid and be damned if he would blow it. Plus, he usually prided himself on being good at reading women. And she displayed absolutely no signs of romantic interest.  
  
Chris wanted her in his life. And if that meant settling for friendship ... yes, settling. He was settling for only the friendship of the woman he loved when he really wanted to be her man, her lover, her everything and more. And that shot was slim in hell.  
  
He knew this angle would be difficult. A romance angle on screen with a woman he wanted to romance in real life. And he had to make believe he was really acting, when he was truly living out a fantasy. But it was better than the alternative. If he didn't do this angle, and turn his character face, they'd turn Trish heel. And add her to Evolution.  
  
And put her in a romance ...  
  
With Randy Orton.  
  
Chris shook his head. No, he couldn't handle that. He couldn't handle watching her week in and week out flirting with another man. Even if it was only on screen, that didn't matter. He couldn't watch her flirt and kiss and then as the story would progress, they'd make her kiss him more intensely and he couldn't watch. It would make him sick.  
  
So he pushed for his angle with her. Submitted himself to the endless torture of her acting like she was in love with him. Acting like their kisses meant something, that she wanted to kiss him. He couldn't help it. It still ripped at his heart. Tore him apart that when the cameras were on, she would touch him and caress him and flirt. Good Lord, how she'd flirt and how much he just wanted to ... but it was all an act.  
  
She wasn't really flirting with him. Her character was flirting with him. If only she knew how much this was killing him, how much it hurt to have her ... and then not. He wished that she would kiss him like that when the cameras were off. That when the production crew went away, she would walk up to him, and glance in his eyes, then at his lips. Then she'd let those gorgeous eyes closed as she captured his mouth.  
  
Chris exhaled a shaky breath, leaning back against one of the stone pillars. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. Then opened his eyes and watched. He watched silently as the production crew packed up their equipment and moved on, watched as Trish laughed and joked with the make-up artists and then talk with Lita or Molly or whoever else happened to walk past.  
  
And Chris just hid in the shadows. Hell, it looked like she didn't even know he was still there. Not that is surprised him. He was a soft-spoken kind of guy anyway. He didn't want attention. At least not right now. Not when his heart was still racing and his breath still in his throat. And all from that one kiss. This angle was much more difficult than he thought it would be.  
  
He couldn't get the feel of her lips out of his mind. Or even the little things that the cameras didn't catch. Like how her right hand rested on his waist as she kissed him. Or how her other hand gripped the muscles of his arm, like she was holding onto him. Those spots of his flesh were still on fire. He just wanted her so badly. So very badly that it hurt him.  
  
He was in physical pain. His body aching with how much he wanted her. And not a physical sexual tension, but his mental and emotional anguish materialized in physical stress. That his heart was physically hurting, his head spinning, he was going to be sick. His stomach lurched with the knots his incompleteness felt the need to tie.  
  
Oh no.  
  
No, no, no, this was not happening. Chris swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to move and everything around him grew hazy. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes. No, he wasn't going to cry. Why the hell was he going to cry? He could handle this. He could handle this entire angle.  
  
He pushed off the pillar, not bothering to look around as he rushed down the hall and away as fast as he could. He just had to run, run as far and fast and ... he could handle this. He could handle this.  
  
The hallway grew dark as he continued down a more secluded part of the arena. And he skidded to a halt, falling to his knees, his head bowed. He could handle this. He was not going to break. Taking a deep breath, Chris sat back against the wall, his knees to his chest.  
  
No.  
  
He couldn't handle this. He couldn't. Not anymore.  
  
His arms on his knees, he buried his face, finally letting go and just crying. He refused to sob, refused to lose that much control. He maintained enough composure to hold in as much noise a possible. His anguished whimpers the only sound echoing in the hall.  
  
"Chris?"  
  
His head perked up, the tears slowing. Was that her? Trish? No, no, no. Chris wiped his eyes, refusing to let her see. Maybe if he didn't move, she wouldn't see him.  
  
"Chris? I know you went down this way. I saw you run off."  
  
And Chris choked, his whimpering catch ringing through the empty corridor. He ducked his head back into his arms, pressing his lips together ever so tightly. 'Don't you cry, Jericho.' He thought. But just the sound of her voice ... brought him pain. Hearing her voice calling to him, calling for him. Her voice ... just her ... and she wasn't his.  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, he expelled a loud shaky breath. He refused to cry. Refused to ...  
  
Then he felt her, her hands on his arms then tucking his hair behind his ears. "Oh, Chrissy." She hushed.  
  
And he was undone. The tears fell again, and he felt like a fucking tool. His chest heaved with the sobs that now racked his body. The torment that had been haunting him for years finally bubbling to the surface and he just couldn't hold back anymore. Hold back the pain and the suffering and the angst and his utter depression.  
  
"Chrissy," Trish breathed, pulling on his arms. She was able to pull his arms off his knees and his head fell forward. She cupped his face; crawling right into his lap then wrapped her arms around his neck. "Come here, sweetie." And she pulled his head to her shoulder, just hugging his shaking body. "Shhhh, whatever it is. Everything will be just fine. Shhhh."  
  
Her words only made his sobs harder, ripping apart his very body in an attempt to tear every last shred from his being. He clutched at her, holding her ever so tightly and he buried his face in her neck. He couldn't even find words; he was just a mess.  
  
"What's the matter, honey?" she cooed. "Huh? Come on, talk to me, baby."  
  
Chris viciously shook his head, her use of endearments more painful than comforting. Because he wasn't her honey, or her baby, or her sweetie. He was only Chris ... her friend. And nothing more.  
  
"Shhh..." Trish hushed, squeezing him tighter. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. It's ok. Whatever it is, I'll be here for you. And we'll make it better, ok? No matter what it is I'll ..."  
  
"No," he mumbled. "You can't make it better. This can't get better, it won't and it can't and ..." He pushed away from her. "Just leave me alone."  
  
She only let him push her so far; she stayed in his lap, her arms on his shoulders, as she looked him carefully in the eye. "Yes, I can, sweetie. It's ok."  
  
"No, it's not." Chris cried, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Please, just leave. Leave me alone. You can't help."  
  
"I can't unless you let me." Trish ran a finger down his cheek, his jaw. "Let me help you, honey."  
  
Blinking harshly to stop his tears, Chris ducked his head and simply stared down.  
  
"Chris?"  
  
He shook his head, refusing to look up at her.  
  
"Sweetie, come on." Trish cupped his face, raising his eyes. Her gaze so loving and gentle and soft. It was almost maternal.  
  
And that made Chris sick. "Don't look at me like that!" He forced out. "I'm not some fucking child that needs to be pacified. I'm a man. ... a man... I'm broken-hearted, not ..." his eyes widened with horror at what just slipped from his lips.  
  
"Oh, Chris." Trish breathed, stroking his cheek.  
  
And in that instant, the look in her eye, Chris thought that she actually knew. But he sighed, defeated when she pulled his head back to her shoulder in a hug.  
  
"Oh, sweetie." She cooed. "Who broke your heart? I didn't know you were in a relationship. Who was she? What did she do?"  
  
Chris shook slightly, holding onto her to bury his head back into her throat. "She broke my heart." He whispered.  
  
"Who did?" Her voice was just as soft.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Ok." Trish gently combed her fingers through his hair. "Well, how did she break you heart?"  
  
"She doesn't love me."  
  
"And you love her?"  
  
He nodded. "More than anything. She's everything to me, Trish. My life and my world and I just ... I can't even put into words how much I love her."  
  
"Shhh." Trish hushed as he started to cry again and she rocked with him, comforting him the best way she could. "Shhh, it's ok, sweetie. Does she know how you feel? What happened?"  
  
Chris shook his head, hugging her tighter. "She doesn't know. I can't get the courage to tell her. It hurts so much. It just hurts so much because she has no idea. And I don't have the guts to try anything."  
  
"Well, you have to do something. If you can't tell her ... then show her. You owe it to yourself. And to her."  
  
"To her?"  
  
Trish nodded. "Yes, sweetie. To her. You owe it to her to know how you feel. Maybe she never thought you felt that way or maybe she just doesn't know that you're even a contender for her affection. You owe her the choice to decide whether or not to accept your love."  
  
"But what if she denies me? I'm already heart broken and this ... if she says no it'll kill me."  
  
"You need to risk it." Trish said, rubbing his shoulders then pushing back from him to look in his eyes. "You deserve to know." She smiled. "And she deserves you, whoever she is. Chris, you are the most amazing man I know and any girl would be lucky to have you. I can't see her rejecting you."  
  
"You don't know this girl." He said, worried.  
  
"No," she answered. "But I know women. And women spend their lives looking for a man like you."  
  
Chris licked his lips, nervously. And something came to mind. Something that was probably against his better judgment. But Chris opted for it anyway. Hell, could there be a perfect time.  
  
He cupped her face in his hands, leaning forward and brushing his lips over hers. He just wanted her to feel him there, feel the caress of his lips. "Have you ... spent your life ... looking for a man ... like me?"  
  
Trish's breath caught in her throat, finally everything clicking in her brain. His feelings, the way he'd been acting, she was the woman who broke his heart. She trembled a little; he didn't stop brushing his lips over hers. She could barely feel him. Barely ... he was there, she felt those lips but it was so light, so delicate.  
  
"Trish ... I owe it to you ... to tell you ... that I'm in love with you." He continued the delicately sensual caress of her lips with his own. He loved the way this felt. The way he could feel her breathing race, her heart beating faster. And his was doing the same.  
  
Trish still didn't move. She didn't respond, only stayed frozen as he continued.  
  
"Trish ..." he pulled away from her only slightly, staring into her eyes. "Are you rejecting me?"  
  
"I've always wanted a man to say things like that to me." She whispered. "Tell me more. Say beautiful things to me."  
  
Chris held her gaze, making absolutely sure she could see his pure honesty, the truth behind his words. "I love you." He inched closer so his lips brushed hers, that way she not only heard but also felt him speak. "You are the most beautiful thing in the world. You're everything to me. Everything and more. My reason for breathing. I tortured myself day in and day out by being your friend because I loved being around you, and being your confidant and your friend."  
  
He sighed, when her lips parted. "But I wanted to be so much more. So much more intimate. I wanted to be your lover. I wanted to make love to you." He ran her hands down her back. "I wanted to worship your body, and to pleasure you and then at night, I wanted to hold you while you slept. And protect you from everything. And in the morning, I'd wake up still holding you. And I'd be content, to just ... hold you. To feel you in my arms and to kiss you until you were sick of kissing me, because all I want to do is kiss you and never stop. I wanted to have your heart, mind and soul. Just like you have mine." He paused, loving the taste of her breath, the moisture ... her moisture on his lips. "Do you reject me?"  
  
Trish swallowed, hard. Any maternal look she had before disappeared. And it was replaced with something else, a different love. Something heated yet compassionate. Passionate yet loving and dare he even think ... lust- filled. Trish licked her lips. "Good Lord, no." And she crushed her mouth to his, kissing him for all he was worth. And in that single gesture, Chris felt his heart rebuilding. Each lick of her tongue, each time their lips would meet, each caress of her hands healed him. Healed his wounds. Healed every essence of his being. Chris was finally whole.  
  
-FIN  
  
*** And this is about as sappy as I will get. I've noticed lots of peeps not digging the Jericho/Trish angle. But hey, I do so ... here's another for those that are all about the Canadian Stratusfaction. Review, let me know if you want more of this pairing. Cuz if so ... well I've got it for you.*** 


End file.
